Curiosity
by meenajon
Summary: How far will Ms. Granger's curiosity take her? And will she be able to save a certain pale haired young man along the way?
1. Chapter 1

First Up: Disclaimer - I own nothing related to Harry Potter or any of the books or movies, screenplays, etc., about Harry Potter. Those are all J.K. Rowling's and I'm just happy I get to have a little of the sand from the sandbox stuck under my fingernails.

Second: This is my story, and my ideas, from a recurring dream I kept having - the Muse has been bugging my bloody arse off to start typing again. So Muse, if you're listening: Here you go.

Third: This first "Chapter" as it were, is actually compiled of several chapters written together and stored on my compooooter until I felt I had enough of a beginning to keep on going with it. So this is a long beginning - enough to satisfy most avid readers - but you'll be happy to know that the other chapters will be shorter ones, and easier on your brain and eyes.

Fourth: I'll stop blabbing now. Go, read, and **please **review to let me know if it's worth continuing on. Toodles!

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"Bloody hell!"

Ronald Weasley jerked backwards, rubbing his arm where he had just been bitten.

"Oi! Whose freaking idea was it not to hex him in the first place?"

Harry stood there, a completely impassive look on his face. Personally, he wanted to off the young man in front of them. But Lupin and Moody both had told him and the other members of the Order that this one wasn't to be killed, just subdued.

Hermione Granger, always the curious and inquisitive type, kneeled down in front of the blonde wizard. He was trembling and dirty, and downright feral in his responses. The others hadn't been able to get a word out of him, but the closer she got to him, the calmer he seemed to get.

"What is it, Mudblood? Suddenly having a conscience? Or is it that you never had the backbone to do away with me in the first place?"

Her eyes narrowed as she brought her wand to a point right between Draco Malfoy's now widening eyes.

His trembling started again.

"Not at all, Ferret. Looks like you're more afraid of me than I've ever been of you. Just a coward hiding all this time behind his father's robes. But now that Daddy's off in Azkaban, there's no one for you to put in front of the firing squad instead of yourself, eh?"

"J-just d-do it."

Malfoy's voice tripped over the words. He did look as if he would much rather die than be touched by her. But it was Harry who spoke first, his tone low and unchanging.

"No can do, Malfoy. You're easier to question alive than you would be dead. And I, for one, am looking forward to the day they'll let me have a go."

Hermione, closer than the others, almost thought she heard a low sob come from the obviously beaten young man in front of her, right before he lowered his head into his hands. She spoke aloud, mostly to herself rather than to anyone else there.

"Curious."

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Back at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, voices could be heard coming from the living room of Grimmauld Place. Hermione sighed, exasperated that she had been stuck watching Malfoy in the kitchen. She had much more important things to do than coddle a prisoner. _Like look up information on the whereabouts of any of the remaining horcruxes._

"Dammit."

She held her finger up to her mouth, slowly sucking on the tip, which she had just burned while not paying attention to what she was doing. If she wasn't careful, she was going to burn their dinner, too.

Draco sat there, staring at the patterns in the dark wood of the dining table. He had been sitting there for hours, listening to the arguing coming in waves from the living room. He knew they were arguing over him and his fate. Frankly, the thought of his own continued existence was more terrifying than if they were to use the killing curse on him. The thought of facing Voldemort was ten times worse than having to be in a duel with Potter himself. Just then came a large bang from the fireplace.

"All right, all right! Would someone like to explain to me what all this arguing is about? I'm getting too old for this!"

The gruff and grumbly voice of Alistair Moody seemed to effectively end the discussion altogether. Ron looked at Harry, who in turn looked at Remus and then lowered his eyes. He felt slightly ashamed of himself for arguing with his mentor, but he knew that they would get nowhere with Malfoy, and wanted to turn him into the Ministry of Magic and call it a day. But with the exception of Ronald Weasley, no one else was in support of this idea.

Moody smiled and sat down on the nearest couch, waiting patiently for everyone else to do the same.

"Fine, now what were you discussing so loudly when I got here? Something to do with young Draco Malfoy, I presume?"

"Well, sir, you see..."

"What Harry is trying to say is..."

"Silence!"

They all turned to looked at McGonagall, who had just come down the stairs.

"I know that you gentlemen all have the desire to turn in Mr. Malfoy, but you must remember who and what we are dealing with here. The Minister of Magic is no more to be trusted than Percy Weasley. Sorry Ronald, but you know that I daresay speak the truth."

"Yes ma'am."

Ron lowered his head in shame, the thought of one of his older brothers being so dense as to believe that Voldemort had absolutely no desire for world domination, nor that he existed... The mere fact of Percy's existence had caused his family such pain that they no longer spoke his name in the house.

"Now, it would be good for you all to remember the circumstances by which we came to have young Mr. Malfoy in this house with us. First of all, it was Severus Snape, not Malfoy, who killed Albus. I know, I know..."

She raised one hand to indicate that she was not finished.

"I know that Mr. Malfoy was the one who allowed the Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts in the first place, but do you think he would have done so if he didn't think that he would be killed if he did not assist? And secondly, remember that he had the opportunity to be the one to kill Dumbledore, but he hesitated. If anything, that tells me that there might be something redeemable in that young man after all."

Lupin rose from the arm of the chair he had been perched upon, motioning for the others to join him.

"Right then. I say that we table this discussion for later, as I believe dinner will be ready shortly. Off to wash up with the lot of you."

"He sounds just like my mother."

Ron grumbled the words, thinking that no one had heard him as he made his way up the stairs. But Minerva reached out and touched his arm, a twinkle in her ancient eyes.

"I heard that, Mr. Weasley."

Quickly scurrying up the stairs, he heard her chuckle as he turned a shade of red that he never thought possible.

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****

"Malfoy, you're not eating."

Everyone had come together in the kitchen, lining both sides of the long, picnic style table. It reminded him oddly of the tables and benches at Hogwarts, and a pang of nostalgia hit him as he looked down at his food.

Hermione sat there, studying the blonde in front of her. Except for the smart comment he'd made to provoke her earlier in the day, when they'd found him cowering in the cave, there was very little of the old Malfoy that she knew underneath the skin of this young man. It was curious. Tilting her head to one side, she looked him over thoroughly. Obviously, he had been on the run for quite some time; one step ahead of them. _What was it that he'd done to slip up?_

For two years, they'd been searching for any and all Death Eaters they could, trying to locate more horcruxes and jail as many of Voldemort's followers as possible. It had been treacherous at times, but not a single of the others had been so visibly afraid in her presence. Malfoy was reacting as if he'd been traumatized. He definitely was not defiant at all, and this puzzled her immensely. Hermione bent her head down, trying to whisper to him.

"What the hell happened to you, Malfoy?"

Draco's head snapped up. _Is she talking to me? Indeed_. He saw her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to make like she was interested in the other mindless conversation that was going on around her.

His eyes narrowed.

"What's it to you, Granger?"

"Never mind."

Hermione stabbed at the food on her plate a few more times, wondering what it was that bothered her so much about him. It wasn't the typical annoyance that she had felt, all those years on the school grounds. No, this was something completely different. Something akin to her conscience nagging at her that they had it all wrong; that Malfoy wasn't the bad guy they all thought he was.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a pair of warm arms circling her torso and lips that softly kissed her on the cheek.

"How's it going, love?"

She turned and smiled into the face of George Weasley., her boyfriend. They had been together for almost a year now, after she finally realized that the Weasley she was fond of had not been Ronald after all, but one of his brothers. The fact that he had felt the same about her floored her completely. She thought back to when he'd let her know for sure:

_Hermione had been sitting in the living room of the Burrow, silently staring into the fire for what has seemed an age. She'd tried warming up to Ronald. Everyone thought they were the perfect couple; that they should marry. _

_She shivered at the thought. Every time she'd been kissed by Ron, it felt like a wet slobbery kiss that someone's little brother would give their big sister. The young man was emotionally immature, and try as she might, she could never manage to hold an intellectual conversation for more than a minute with him._

_"Eh-hem."_

_Barely raising her gaze, she noticed one of the twins standing next to her, vaguely asking her permission to sit next to her on the raggedy old couch. With a flick of her wrist, she indicated that it didn't really matter at that point if he did or not. When she felt the weight of his body sink in next to her, Hermione turned to see which of the infamous pranksters had decided to grace her with his presence._

_"Ah; Hello George."_

_His brows came together, causing his forehead to furrow as he wondered how she knew him to be George, and not Fred. Even Molly had trouble telling her own sons apart from time to time._

_As if reading his mind, she chuckled before responding._

_"The mole on the side of your jaw, silly. You have one there; Fred doesn't."_

_Absentmindedly, George reached up to touch his jawline, wondering how he had missed the existence of that little piece of extra skin there for so long._

_"Well, I guess there's no hiding anything from Ms. Hermione Granger, now is there?"_

_Hermione managed a half-smile, before lowering her eyes again and picking at the lint covering her pant leg. She felt uncomfortable sitting beneath the tall boy's gaze. No, scratch that. Tall man's... She could no longer think of George or Fred Weasley as boys. They had indeed grown up. _

_They were successful businessmen, albeit with a great backer in Harry. And though they still made up many joke products, they had stopped making any that were truly malicious in nature. Now, whether that's because they matured or they'd gotten tired of listening to Hermione harrassing them, she did not know. The thought brought an even broader smile to her lips at last._

_"I don't know what it is that I said, but I'm glad I said it."_

_She shifted her weight a bit, bringing her legs underneath her and turning slightly toward him._

_"George, how do you tell someone that you don't feel the same way about them that they do you? Without breaking their heart, that is..."_

_George sighed and brought one of his hands up, dragging it through his shaggy red hair. He hated being the person that everyone went to for advice. If it wasn't Hermione, then it was Ginny, or Harry. Even Ron went to him to ask him what to do about the girl who was now asking him this question._

_"Well, if you're talking about Ickle Ronnykins... The best you can do is be upfront with him, 'Mione. Oh, he's not going to take it well in the first place. But in the long run, he'll realize that it was the right thing after all. Besides, if he really cares about you, he'll only want you to be happy. And if that's not with him, then I guess it just wasn't meant to be."_

_Her eyes lit up a bit. She had been thinking of finding a way to let him down easily, or to slowly drop hints to make him realize how she truly felt. But George was right. Dragging it out would only make it worse in the long run. She leaned over and gave him a bear hug._

_"Oh George! Thank you. You're brilliant! How did you ever think of that one?"_

_"Because it's what I want for you."_

_Hermione froze. Something in the way he said it made her slowly pull back, and the smile was replaced by one of her famous inquisitive looks._ Was he saying? Did he basically just say? Oh, spit it out already!

_"George Weasley, are you saying that you have feelings for me?"_

_Slowly, the color of his skin began to change. A red flush was creeping from his neck, all the way up to the tips of his ears. And if she had been able to get a look beneath those clothes, Hermione was pretty sure that it covered the rest of him, too. By the time that her conscious mind registered that thought, she had begun to change colors, too._

_He nodded, and reached up to put his hands on her arms, which where still surrounding him in a loose hug. George smiled as he noticed her blushing, and saw her quickly lower her eyes, though she did nothing to detach herself from him._

_"If I didn't know any better, Ms. Granger, I would say that deep down, you might be harboring some of those yourself for a certain debonair and dashing red-headed Weasley twin."_

_She laughed out loud as she caught the sight of him wiggling his eyebrows. Hermione smacked him on the arm, and turned a bit to lean up against him. It was a comfortable position, and not one that she wanted to move from. _

_"I don't know... Maybe."_

_"Hmm. Well, when you have a better idea, you know where to find me. But I still think you should let my little brother off the hook first."_

_Nodding in silent agreement, she leaned back a little more, and sat there in front of the warm fire, for what seemed like another age_.

"Hermione, are you all right? That's the third time Ron's asked you to pass the potatoes. Off in dreamland again, are we?"

Harry winked as he saw his best friend turning pink. He knew that she hadn't seen George in a while, and he was happy that at least one of the twins had made it to their weekly dinner here at Headquarters. He reached out to take the piping hot bowl of mash, and almost dropped it on the table before his other best friend.

"Thanks."

Hermione felt a gentle squeeze on her hand as George sat down beside her. The sounds of everyone's animated discussions about the latest Quidditch match made her wince. She couldn't believe that in these dangerous times, there were wizards out there who would still rather play a game of Quidditch than search and destroy Voldemort.

The discussions were drowned out in her mind, though, as she caught Draco Malfoy staring at her and George. And the look that quickly disappeared from his eyes as he lowered his head again to finally concentrate on eating the food she'd placed before him. _What was that? Was it, hurt? _Again, she spoke lowly, beneath her breath knowing that no one probably heard her anyway.

"Curious. Very curious."

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****

The next day began early for everyone. At six o'clock sharp, just as the sun began to rise, Draco found himself being woken from a fitful sleep.

"Up you go, Malfoy. Why Harry couldn't just get the bloody house elf to come get you is beyond me!"

He slowly opened one eye to see Ron Weasley standing before him, his wand placed very close to Draco's left cheek.

"Oi! Malfoy! Are you deaf? Let's go! The rest of them have already been downstairs since before dawn. You won't be getting breakfast until after this mess, so I suggest you get a move on."

Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed that Potter had led him to the night before. His stomach grumbled in protest as he reached over to pull his shirt on over his head.

In the fresh light of morning, he saw that he was in a very small room, indeed. There were cobwebs over the only window, and there was barely space for the bed he was sleeping in. It must have been used as a study or pantry by the Black family years ago. He guessed that with the number of Order members who he had seen last night, there was probably a full house, and this was the only safe place for Draco to be kept. At least it wasn't a dungeon.

He shivered at the thought of the Malfoy family dungeons. More than once, Draco had found himself on the receiving end of his father's anger. And though he'd never been forced to participate, he'd seen what his father had done to his and Voldemort's victims. It had abhorred him at the time, and he thanked Merlin that someone had seen to not put him in that position. In fact, he was almost overjoyed not to be in Voldemort's position. _Almost._

"Go."

With the Weasel's wand poking him in between his shoulder blades, Draco padded through the hall and down the stairs to what had once been the Black family sitting room. It was a parlor of sorts, meant for meeting and greeting people as they entered the house. There was a fireplace against the far wall, which was good as he was currently without a jacket, and feeling the chill of the morning air in his very bones.

"Dammit, Ronald! Do you think you could have let him at least put his shoes on? What's the point in bringing him down here in bare feet?"

"B-but 'Mione... Wait a second! Do you think he would have done the same for you if you'd been in his place!"

"He's right. I wouldn't."

Everyone turned at the soft sound of the words as they escaped Malfoy's dry lips. Yes, he was cold. And yes, he was standing barefoot on the hardwood floor. But he really didn't expect them to care. To them, he was just another Slytherin who'd been working for the Dark Lord. A traitor to wizardkind.

Hermione walked over and grasped his bicep with her thin fingers, tugging on his arm and pulling him closer to the fire. She was irritated if not angry.

"That's not the point, Ronald. Too bad you never went to a muggle church in your youth. Golden Rule: Do Unto Others As You Would Have Done Unto You. I guess the concept is a little farfetched for purebloods."

"Hey!"

"That's enough, Ms. Granger."

Minerva had been watching the exchange between the three young wizards since Ron had brought Malfoy into the room. In truth, she was proud of Hermione for her actions. The young witch was correct. Just because someone would have treated her like filth if the roles had been reversed did not mean that she had to lower herself to their level.

"Now, please sit Mr. Malfoy closer to the fire so that he may warm himself. He is obviously not in possession of the proper clothing for this house and the chill air that passes through beginning every evening. Mr. Potter, if you could call Kreacher and get him to fetch some proper shoes for Mr. Malfoy. A size twelve, yes?"

Malfoy nodded, understanding that he was being addressed by his former Professor. He kept his face expressionless. It would not do to let them see the happiness he felt when she'd addressed him directly, as if he was indeed still worth something.

"Good. Now that will be taken care of. I will explain to you what will be taking place beneath the roof of this establishment, so that there will be no surprises for you. None that I'm sure you wouldn't be expecting anyway."

The older witch's lips were drawn into a thin line as she explained this would be the Order's version of the Wizengamot. McGonagall did not trust the Ministry, of that Draco was sure. And with good reason. The Minister himself was in Lord Voldemort's pocket. They would find nothing but treachery there. A round of questions would be asked by each Order member, and she suggested that he tell the truth the first time around. Because a record would be made of both questions and responses. They would then break for lunch, after which a second round of questioning would begin; this time under the influence of Veritaserum. A spell would be used to compare his responses, seeing if there were any holes in his story.

"Understood?"

Draco gulped audibly before they began, and nodded. _Yes. _He understood.

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****

After several hours of questioning, and at least the last thirty minutes spent listening to everyone's stomachs growling, McGonagall finally called an end to the first round.

"All right everyone. That is quite enough."

She was met with a few protests as both Ron and Harry, along with George Weasley still had a few questions they personally wanted answered.

"I said enough! Ms. Granger?"

"Yes ma'am..."

"Take Mr. Malfoy upstairs. He needs a proper bath and a change of clothes. It would do us no good for him to catch cold before we can finish what we've started. Thank you."

Hermione nodded, silently wondering why she was the one who had once again been assigned to be Malfoy's nursemaid. She quietly led the way as the young wizard followed her up the stairs, and into the large bathroom that was impossibly siturated in the center of the second floor.

Draco looked around him in interest, keeping his features passive. The rest of the house was cleanly, but old. But this one room was much grander than all the others. It had a large triangular shaped bath in one corner, and a shower stall on the other side of the room. He watched as with a flick of Granger's wand, she conjured up some fresh towels and a change of undergarments and clothes for him. A slight blush crept up his cheeks as he turned to look at her.

"Don't worry, Granger. I'm in no mood for a striptease this afternoon."

"Ugh! As if!"

She groaned and pulled the door closed tightly behind her. _Boys can be horrible sometimes! Wait a second... Did I just refer to Malfoy the same way I do everyone else? I must be going soft._

Hermione was so absorbed with that thought she managed to crash straight into George as she was walking down the hall.

"In a hurry to get somewhere, love? I thought you were keeping an eye on Malfoy?"

Adjusting herself, Hermione looked up into those eyes, seeing the mirth they held.

"And how, exactly, am I supposed to keep an eye on him? Hmmm? Would someone like to tell me that? You'd think McGonagall wants me to be in there the whole time he's bathing? I think not."

"I think that is exactly what you're supposed to be doing, Ms. Granger. You're a junior auror and you need to start acting like it. Now turn back around and get in there and watch your prisoner."

Hermione shrunk back a bit, the fire gone completely out of her.

"Yes sir."

She punched George soundly in the arm as he began to laugh, she hoped hard enough to leave a mark. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to the door and opened it slowly. As she looked into the room, she saw Malfoy leaning backward in the tub, up to his neck in bubbles. Hermione couldn't control the giggle that came to the surface.

"Merlin Granger! Haven't you ever heard of privacy before?"

His actions were futile, really, but Draco grabbed the nearest towel and attempted to cover himself a bit. This only served to further encourage Hermione's laughter, which slowly became louder, a veritable floodgate waiting to burst.

Draco looked down at himself and understood perfectly. He smiled sheepishly before regaining his typical cool demeanor; but not before Hermione caught the look.

"Curious."

"What's so curious, Granger?"

"You, Malfoy. Just you."

The rest of the bath they spent in silence, Hermione turning around to give him what little privacy she could. She heard the sound of the water going down the drain and gave him a few more minutes before turning around.

"Ready?"

Draco cocked his head to one side as he heard the loud grumble coming from his stomach.

"Hungry."

"Well, let's go then. Molly comes and cooks for us in the afternoons, so you're sure to enjoy lunch today, at least."

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Holding his belly with one hand, Draco thought for sure that he had never had such a wonderful meal in all his life. Not even the house elves at Hogwarts had cooked food to taste this delicious. And he was so impressed by Mrs. Weasley's onion soup that he did something entirely out of character - at least out of character for how they all were used to Draco Malfoy behaving.

"Mrs. Weasley, might I say thank you for such a fine meal."

All eyes turned to look at him as Molly blushed and smiled lightly. Ron and Harry sat with arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Draco quickly looked down at his empty bowl, feeling slightly embarrassed and unwanted in the room.

"You're welcome Mr. Malfoy."

It was then he looked up and found a face of approval coming from the Weasley family matriarch and his former Hogwarts professor. He nodded quickly and swung his eyes back down the table, catching a glimpse of everyone who was currently staring at him blatantly. Weaselette almost choked on her own soup. Ronald had dropped his bread on the plate in front of him, seemingly disgusted. Harry had begun chewing on his hunk of bread, taking out his own thoughts of the matter on the poor piece of food in his hand. Lupin sat quietly, thoughtfully gazing at the young man. Moody had his "good" eye trained on Draco, and the lone Weasley twin had a rather blank expression on his own face. It was Hermione who surprised him the most.

There was a slight twinkle in her eye as she looked at him. She wasn't smiling, but he could feel her emotions radiating toward him, and he swore that she winked at him before he dropped his eyes back down. But on the inside, he was now smiling, too.

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"Well, I-I...I just can't believe it. There's no denying it I suppose, but it doesn't mean that I cannot believe it."

Several hours had passed, and McGonagall was looking, quite amazed at the piece of parchment she held in her old, frail hands. Harry stood, his eyes narrowing as he made his way closer to his former headmistress. Ron came close on his heels.

"What is it, Professor McGonagall?"

"Yeah, when do we get to throw him into Azkaban?"

"I hate to say it, Potter...but it seems we had it all wrong. The boy has been horribly misjudged and has done nothing wrong."

Draco sat, completely still, never changing the range of his gaze, which was focused on the climbing flames in front of him. He felt the increasing heat emanating from the fireplace, but it did nothing to animate him from the position he was now seated in.

If he had bother to turn, he would have seen Harry's lips drawing into a thin line, and Ronald's fists balling up at his sides. Neither one of them could believe it, either. Malfoy-Draco Malfoy, innocent of all charges? It was Hermione, however, that let her emotions get the better of her.

She walked over in front of him, her face white with anger. Her body was shaking with it.

"Malfoy. Malfoy! Look at me!"

The tone in her voice was authoritative, and he felt obliged to comply. Slowly, tears glistening in his blue-grey eyes, he lifted his head to allow his sullen gaze to meet hers. He couldn't believe how angry she was; yet he fully understood.

McGonagall placed one hand cautiously on the young witch's tensed up arm. Hermione slowly looked into the older woman's knowledgable countenance.

"Miss Granger...everyone. We, ourselves will not be sending Mr. Malfoy to Azkaban without a proper vote. The results of this test prove that he acted purely out of fear, and under the influence of both his own malicious father and of Voldemort himself. It has always been the plan of this group to offer Mr. Malfoy a choice, but only if majority rules to give him that choice. All in favor of giving him the right to decide, raise your hands. All those in favor of sending him straight to the Wizengamot, which in turn will most likely sentence him to the dementor's kiss, raise your hand."

Ron Weasley walked over to his best female friend. He bent his head down to whisper to her, but spoke louder in his low voice than intended.

"Hermione, you haven't voted."

He, as well as the rest of the Order members present, were indeed not prepared for her response.

"Vote! You all expect me to vote! How can you?"

Her fists clenched and unclenched as tears began to stream down her rapidly reddening cheeks.

"I have no right to judge him! How can I?"

She got closer to Malfoy's face. So close Draco could feel her breath upon his own skin.

"How could you, Malfoy? You made the first six years of my life at Hogwarts, the place I always thought of as my true home, a living hell! And for what? Because you didn't have the balls to stand up to Daddy? No, I have no desire to judge a person like you...when all you did was judge me my entire life for a reason you didn't even believe in, and for something I couldn't even help."

"Hermione..."

Ron reached out to grab her arm as she began to leave the room.

"Sod off, Ronald!"

"Merlin, what the hell has gotten into her?"

George, who had watched his girlfriend very carefully during the entire exchange, let his voice trail after her as she made her way up the stairs.

"How would you feel, Ron? Having to judge someone you had learned to dislike so much, maybe even learned to hate? And then to find out the only reason that he did so was basically to survive? Hermione can't judge him, mate. I think the only things she feels right now for Malfoy are sadness and pity."

Their attention was drawn back to the fireplace as Moody cleared his throat and spoke for the first time that afternoon in his customary gruff voice.

"Well, that settles it, then. Even without Miss Granger's vote, it is still 4 in favor of giving the young man a choice, and two against. Minerva?"

McGonagall looked down her pointy nose and over the edge of her glasses to give Malfoy a stern look that he remembered all too well from his days in Transfiguration. Her lips made their familiar purse before she spoke.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy. You are hereby given 24 hours to make the decision for yourself, then. You may either join the Order of the Phoenix, or you may choose to be tried by the Wizengamot..."

"One-way ticket to Azkaban!"

"Alistair...quiet please. As I was saying, you may make the choice yourself. In twenty-four hours, this council will reconvene and you may make your decision known to the rest of us.. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Okay then. I suggest that we all retire for the evening. I am sure that Mr. Malfoy has much to think about, and dinner will be served in two hours. That is all."

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Even though Draco Malfoy had often proven that he could be a more than adequate git, he was not born a complete idiot.

During the 24 hour time limit McGonagall had put on him, he had only two visitors: George Weasley and Remus Lupin. The former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor brought Draco his lunch along with a few words that he supposed were meant to be some sort of apology.

"Eat up, young man. You'll need your strength ...whatever you decide."

As the thin man in tattered robes was about to leave the room, he quietly turned and stared at Draco for a moment.

"For what it is worth Malfoy, I am sorry that you had to go through all that. No father who has any respect for himself should ever do that to his own son."

Draco nodded in understanding, slowly chewing his bite of food as Lupin pulled the door until it clicked softly. His second visitor arrived at dinnertime. A soft rap came on the door, and a flash of long red hair was seen as its owner's head poked cautiously around the door and through its frame.

"Oi, Malfoy...seeing as you weren't making an appearance at any of the meals today, mum said to drop this off to ya."

"Thanks...Weasley. Sorry, but I never did bother to tell the difference between you two blokes."

George smiled broadly, as if he were obviously the more attractive of the two, anyway. After passing the tray to Draco, he leaned his tall frame against the ancient wood and surveyed his younger brother's old adversary.

"Hermione told me I have a mole here..."

George pointed to his jawline...

"...that my brother Fred does not. But, shh...don't tell mother. It would give her one more advantage to use over us when we're driving her wonky."

Draco nodded furiously as he was ravenous, and had his mouth too full of Molly's good cooking to respond otherwise.

"Oh, and Malfoy? Don't disappoint Hermione by making her look like a fool."

And with that, George shut the door quickly behind him. Draco swallowed the food that had termporarily stuck in his throat, shaking his head as he spoke lightly to himself.

"Now I wonder what the hell he meant by that?"

_**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**_

His sleep was hazy at best that night. Flashes of his life up to that point came to him. When he was five and got his first broom as a present from his father. And right after his sixth birthday party, when Lucius made him go to the dungeons to witness the torturing of some poor muggle man and his daughter. He saw things that day that no child should ever have to see; not even as an adult.

Third year, when a young, defiant muggleborn witch clocked him right outside the castle. Fourth year at Hogwarts, when he'd watched her floating effortlessly across the dance floor at the Yule Ball. It was the second time that he'd really thought of her as a person, and not just a mudblood. And during Transfiguration, when he'd let loose a white dove; but no one had seemed to see the beauty of the creature except for him.

In his fifth year, he'd decided to get back at them; get back at them all. Flashes of helping that toad Umbridge round up Dumbledore's Army. He'd sneered and smirked on the outside, all the while aching within just to be accepted as part of their group. By sixth year...it was too late. Voldemort has already wound Draco 'round his little finger. Or so he'd thought.

Even Draco himself had been surprised when faced with a dying old wizard, he'd been unable to finish the deed he'd been assigned by his father, the Dark Lord, and even his own mother. _Ah, Mother; I wonder what has become of you_. No doubt his father had done away with her. In the family known as Malfoy, one did not go against the patriarchal wishes. That is precisely why Draco ran...and became one of the hunted.

Over and over and over again, one vision in his mind shone brighter than the others. Granger. The look of hurt she had given him in front of the fireplace just the day before. Draco never thought he'd see that kind of anguish again, but it touched him all the way in the center of his soul. And he never, ever wanted to see that look again.

_**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**_

_Knock. Knock. Knock_.

"Go away Dobby! I'm trying to sleep!"

"Shut your arse up Malfoy and welcome to the land of the living!"

Draco rubbed his eyes and shook his head, unable to do more than peer out of his swollen eyelids. He'd been crying. About what, he could scarcely remember; only that it had to do with whatever he'd dreamed. As he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the well placed slippers awaiting him on the cold floor, he noted the profound sadness that overcame him as he began to meet the day.

"Malfoy!"

"All right already! Don't get your bloody knickers in a twist, Weasley!"

He grumbled as he pulled on a sweater over the clothes he'd slept in the night before, and gingerly opened the door to keep the squeaking noise to a minimum. No such luck.

Down the hall, another door opened in response to the loud squeak of his own. A bushy head of brown hair appeared in the doorframe, as its owner rubbed her eyelids with an open palm.

"Good morning, Malfoy."

He nodded, noting that she, too, hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep.

"Look, Granger, I just wanted..."

He stopped, noticing her held up hand.

"Malfoy, I have a raging headache and I slept for shite. You don't need to apologize. I only hope you've managed to make the right decision; not for me, but for yourself."

Draco quietly walked down the length of the hall until he stood in front of her, taking in her messy appearance - finding that he in fact was intrigued by this side of Hermione Granger.

"Do you often wake up with drool on your cheek?"

Hermione jumped as she slapped one hand to the side of her face, feeling the cold, slightly slimy substance covering her pale skin. She quickly became a shade of red that would rival a steamed lobster, and just as quickly managed to retreat back into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Ronald Weasley poked his head back up the stairwell in front of Draco, looking around with narrowed eyes.

"What was that all about?"

Draco just shrugged his shoulders in response, pushed past the red-haired young man and made his way to the breakfast table. A very confursed Ron Weaasley stood there for a minute or two before finally following their 'guest' to the table to consume his morning meal.

Twenty minutes later, a much neater, more refreshed-looking Hermione came down the stairs and sat down to the meal, which had already begun. Looking around her, she noticed the boys and Ginny were deep in conversation about another Quidditch match, leaving her and Malfoy out in the cold. None of the older members of the Order, save Molly, had managed to wake as of yet.

"Malfoy, I wanted to say sorry for earlier. I was not at all myself."

She watched as he chewed his food very slowly, and swallowed carefully, as if afraid of what to say to her. Finally he spoke.

"Apology accepted."

Hermione sighed. She had hoped for more than that as a response from him, but who was she kidding. _Miracles happen, just not every day_. Cocking her head to one side, she continued to blatantly stare at the young man while he ate; taking a peek every few seconds to make sure no one caught her starting - especially not George, Harry or Ron.

"Malfoy, what the hell happened to you?"

Draco slowly lowered his fork, wondering if she would ever let up on asking him that. _Probably not_. He decided to put off answering her until later, which he knew could turn out to be just as bad.

"Later, Granger. I promise you. Later, when we can find two seconds alone, I will tell you."

Hermione nodded, slowly plotting how she was going to get Draco Malfoy alone... _I can't believe I'm thinking this_! Alone so that she could satisfy the curiosity that was slowly eating her alive.

The rest of the meal, they did not speak. Draco quietly kept his head down and ate, looking up only when spoken to - which really only happened when someone wanted him to pass a dish of food or whatnot. He knew that if he made the decision to stay, and to be a part of the Order, he would not have their respect. Their pity, maybe, but their respect would have to be hard-earned. He could feel it.

Draco also noticed that in-between comments about Quidditch, he was carefully being watched by the Boy Who Lived. Sure, Potter was now a man by most people's standards, but no one held higher standards in this life than a Malfoy. It was something that was ingrained in his very soul from the time he was an infant, and it was not a thing that would be easily gotten over.

Soon he found himself helping to clear the table; a menial task that he had always left up to the house elves, but that he seemed to find some peace in doing under the roof of Grimmauld Place. Draco passed the dirty plates to Molly after he scraped them clean, who in turn washed them carefully and passed them to a waiting Hermione, who was quickly drying them - the Muggle way. For some reason, this brought the faintest of smiles to his lips. Here she was, a full-fledged witch with all the capabilities such endowed, and yet she had so much pride she would still do things the hard way.

"Is that all, Mr. Malfoy?"

The Weasley matriarch's voice brought him out of his private thoughts. He shook the daydreams from his mind and changed his countenance.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley... Is 'what' all?"

The older woman smiled and laughed. She noticed more than everyone thought, and she could tell that the young man was lost in a dream. Maybe it was something in life he had taught himself, to keep away from the sorrows of his everyday living .

"The dishes, Draco. The dishes. Isn't that right, Molly?"

There was a twinkle in her eye as she turned to Hermione and nodded. Yes, the young woman was dating one of her twin boys. But deep down, she knew that George might have great feelings for Hermione, but he would never quite be a solid match for her. Molly Weasley turned, with her hands on both hips, and then made shooing motions with her arms.

"Go on, you two. There are only a couple of hours before the council meets in the living room again, so you'd better do whatever you have to do. Off with the both of ya!"

Hermione reached over and gave her second mother a firm hug, watching out of the corner of her eye as Malfoy looked over his shoulder before making his way for the stairs.

He had almost made it to his door before he heard her voice.

"Hey, Malfoy. You promised, remember?"

He sighed in resignation, not thinking that she would remind him so soon. Draco opened the door to his tiny little room and motioned for her to go inside.

"Ladies first."

Her eyebrows raised, Herimone, though taken aback at his display of chivalry, made haste to get in through the doorframe before anyone else saw her. She's already caught hell more than once in her youth for 'fraternizing with the enemy', and she wasn't about to cause that arguement to begin anew.

The door closed with a quiet snap behind him, Draco noting that sometime between getting up in the morning and finishing breakfast, someone - most likely that horrid house elf Kreacher - had oiled its squeaky hinges. Thank Merlin. He walked over and sat down next to her on the bed, seeing as it was the only place for them to sit within the tiny walls.

As if reading his thoughts, she looked around them.

"You know, Malfoy, I could put an enlargement charm on this room, and afford you a bit more space. Then perhaps we could decide on some more comfortable furniture to conjure up for you. That is, if you're going to stick around long enough to enjoy it."

"I'd like that, Granger."

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione cast her charm and made the room loads larger.

"Scourgify."

She also managed to clean it up a bit.

"You know, I really don't know why those boys had to put you in here like this. I suppose it's to perpetuate the feeling that you're not welcome, or something."

"But I'm not, am I?"

Hermione looked over to see his eyes clouded with sadness. It was true. Most of the people under this roof would never welcome him with open arms. But there wasn't much she could do to change that one. She knew from instinct that Molly had already accepted him. And Lupin. Even George talked to Malfoy on occasion, managing to treat him like a real person. But Harry and Ron would always be a different story. Malfoy might do a few good deeds in the future to earn their respect, but respect and admiration and acceptance were all different things in the universe. She sighed aloud, putting one hand on his left shoulder in a show of comfort. She half expected the flinch he made as her palm rested there, but she didn't make to move it, either.

"No, Malfoy. You're not. I'm sorry, but not everyone here is perfect. Even you could understand that."

Draco drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them with both of his arms. Her hand on his shoulder was currently giving him the only warmth he had felt from another human being since he'd last seen his own mother, and this weighed heavy on his heart.

"And you, Granger?"

"I...I..."

She was saved from answering by a knock on the door.

"We can discuss this later, Malfoy. Coming!"

The door opened, showing a slightly irritated Harry Potter, his eyes narrowed as he looked towards the young man on the small bed, and then to his best friend standing before him.

"It's time. Let's go."

Hermione bit her lip in a mixture of fear and anticipation. Draco merely nodded as he stood up to go downstairs and meet his fate.


	2. Chapter 2

"I knew it! You had to take the coward's way out, didn't you, Ferret? You couldn't just be a man...no...that would be too easy. Eh?"

Draco, as usual, was quiet again, looking into the fire. He had made his decision, and had been sitting there for nearly an hour, listening to the older and younger members of the Order arguing steadily about it.

This time, everyone that could be there, was. The entire Weasley clan, save Charlie and of course Percy. Fleur had quietly accompanied her husband to the meeting. Most of the Aurors that Dumbledore had recruited before his death were there, sitting to one side where Moody had conjured up some seating. And his old schoolmates were there - some of them, anyway. Longbottom, Lovegood, Thomas, Wood. The one that caused a fleeting look of surprise to pass over his features was Flint. He'd thought the former Slytherin Quidditch captain had followed in his father's footsteps. Just went further to prove that he wasn't the only person that could be misjudged.

Hermione had been sitting on one sofa, stuck between George and his brother Fred. So far she hadn't spoken - just quietly watching the exchange between all the persons in the room. She grimaced as she caught a look of appreciation coming from Flint. George looked down at her and smiled lightly.

"Once a git, always a git, 'Mione. Are you okay, love?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand tightly as she caught the latest comment coming from Ronald. Hermione Granger had finally had enough, and even Fred caught the glint in her eye as she let go of George's hand to stand up in the middle of the room.

He punched his twin in the shoulder, speaking loud enough for several people to take notice.

"Uh-oh, mate. I think Ickle Ronnykins is in trouble now."

The heads of most of the people in the room turned to look at her as she got up into Ronald Weasley's face, effectively silencing all those that weren't vehemently arguing the soundness of Malfoy's decision. And even those shut up after they heard the tone of Hermione's voice.

"EASY? Do you really think his decision was an easy one to make, Ronald? If you had the choice between letting all of your suffering end, once and for all, or to take the high road and join up with a group of people who hated you so much that you could feel it coming off of their very persons... Having to deal with the very people that you tormented your entire youth...having to look at their faces every time remembering what a horrible person you were? Do you think you would be able to get up every day, knowing that you might never be respected, accepted, even remotely trusted? Tell, me Ronald, which one would you choose?"

"I-I... Hermione, it's not that easy, now is it? I wasn't the one who was an insufferable git all through school. I wasn't the one who practiced the Dark Arts because I wanted to make the lives of all Muggles and Muggleborns miserable. He was!"

Draco still didn't move as he felt all eyes turn in his direction. The weight of their gazes alone made him begin to regret his decision. He barely noticed when Granger walked over to him, only acknowledging her when he felt the warmth of her small hand on his shoulder. He finally looked up when her heard the softeness of her voice.

"I, Ronald, have more right than anyone else in this room to dislike Malfoy. I have more right than anyone else to want to hex him to oblivion. But you were there yesterday. You heard the results. And it wasn't like a test you could cheat on by copying my notes like you did in school!"

The only other person in the room who hadn't said a single word the whole time was Harry. He had been watching the cold rain falling outside through one of the murky panes of glass in the room. Turning around, his quiet voice came through to pull the attention away from the argument at hand.

"Enough...everyone, that's enough. Leave Malfoy alone. As Minerva has already pointed out, it was his decision to make, and I suggest that we respect that decision."

Harry stood up and stepped before the fire, putting his hands in front of him to warm his icy fingers. He turned slightly to the side to look out the corner of his eye at Draco as he began to address him directly.

"Just because I respect your decision, Malfoy, does not mean I trust you. Just know this: I'll be watching you."

And with that, he turned on his heel and left the room without another word. Draco looked up at Hermione as she squeezed his shoulder and gave him a little smile before walking back over to take her place on the couch next to George. With a little sigh, she snuggled into George's shoulder, taking her time to drink him in. The irritating voice of Fred interrupted her momentary peace.

"Ugh. You know I love you both, but would you mind getting a room?"

Hermione showed she still had some power behind her punch as she was sure she left a mark on the twin's arm, while pulling George to his feet with a sigh of exasperation. George shrugged at Fred, who was furiously rubbing his own skin.

"I'd watch it, mate. She's in a feisty mood today."

No one heard the low chuckle that came from Draco's mouth as he watched the couple leave the room. In his sadness, it wasn't even heard consciously by Draco himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Feeling the frustration in her building, her fingers moved faster and faster, all the while trying to maintain the precise movements needed to complete their assigned task. Finally she got tired of the staring and looked up to vent her frustration on the person doing it.

"WHAT?"

He looked back to the words on the page that he'd been reading, supposedly, for the better part of an hour. Thinking she'd gone back to her work, Draco took a peek back in Hermione's direction, only to be caught in the act.

Hermione spoke, her words clipped in irritation, with a slight hint of amusement on their fringe.

"I said, 'What?' Malfoy."

He pointed at the objects in her hands, understanding vaguely what she was up to, but not having a clue as to why.

"Those. What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Granger?"

She smiled, slightly bemused at his reaction to her project. She lifted up the long metallic sticks in her hands, fully intent on explaining it to him.

"These are called knitting needles. This ball of stuff here is called yarn."

Draco rolled his eyes. _Why must she always think that I'm stupid?_

"I know that, Granger. But why are you doing it the Muggle way? Wouldn't it be easier just to use magic?"

Hermione sighed. _Yes, it would be. But some things are better done the hard way_. She smiled lightly at her own words' hidden double meaning.

"It relaxes me, Draco. When I do it with my own hands, it allows me to slow down; to think and to concentrate. Knitting by hand has a rhythm if its own that you just don't appreciate if it's done with magic. Plus, it means more to me if I give them something that I have made by myself."

Cocking his head to one side, he wondered who would be happy to receive whatever horrible thing it was that Granger had been so diligently working on. She caught the movement, and sighed again before continuing to knit.

"They're tea cozys, Malfoy. I'm knitting them for the house elves at Hogwarts. Just because I don't go to school there anymore, doesn't mean that I appreciate them any less. Besides, Dobby loves to wear my tea cozys as hats. Keeps it warm there between his ears."

"Dobby always was a strange little creature."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Draco mumbled again under his breath, opening back to the page he had left. But he was really disinterested in reading. The days had become long and boring there at Number 12. He was fully aware that McGonagall and the others didn't trust him an inch, and that the Headmistress of Hogwarts had told Hermione Granger to keep a close eye on him.

Frustrated, he closed the book as the door to the makeshift library was opened, the person responsible bringing with them a cold draft as they did so. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that it was one of the twins, most likely Granger's bumbling boyfriend. Even though he'd been a pretty nice bloke all around, Draco still didn't think this Weasley was any better for Hermione than the last one.

"I'll see you later on, Granger."

"Sure thing, Malfoy. Hello stranger."

Hermione turned her attention to the tall, lanky redhead that had come in with Draco's wake. The biggest difference between him and his younger brother, besides sensitivity, was in the thickness and extra height that Ron now bore above and beyond the twins.

But that was just fine by Hermione. She thought as such, wrapping her thin arms around his frame as he sat on the edge of her chair. Hermione leaned over and took in the smell of him, breathing deeply.

"Ah. So, how is everyone back at the Burrow?"

George leaned down and hugged her tightly, before settling back into a more relaxed position.

"Well, mum's been bustling about, as per her usual. But there's a look of worry when she's doing it now. That blooming clock of hers is doing the wonky."

Her eyebrows furrowing with concern, Hermione put down her knitting and laid her head in George's lap.

"What's wrong with the family clock, George?"

"Well, both Percy and Ron are pointing to Mortal Peril. But you know how it is. The only way Percy is going to be in mortal peril is if he starts being a complete git again. Hey, what's going on with Malfoy?"

Hermione shrugged. Inside, she really wished she knew.

"Not sure, really. He just spends all his time in here when I'm in here. It's almost like he's trying to get away from the rest of the Order, even though half the time they're not even here."

"He's not trying to get all sweet on my girl, now, is he?"

She giggled as he began to tickle her, right there in the chair. Just as he leaned in to kiss her, Hermione caught a glimpse of the door being quietly shut. _Curious._ Shaking it off, she leaned into George in turn, savoring the feel of his lips on hers.

What she didn't realize was that the whole conversation had been listened to by a certain young blond on the other side of the door. He let said door close softly, frowning in disappointment at the sight that had greeted him, just before.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks passed, and Hermione continued to keep an almost solitary eye on Draco. Most of their days were spent in the musty library at Grimmauld Place, occasionally marked by a Sunday dinner filled with Weasleys and Aurors alike.

For three hours Hermione had been reading a manuscript, written in Albus Dumbledore's own hand. It was describing the basics of wandless magic; how to concentrate and focus one's thoughts into a sudden burst of energy to achieve the user's intentions.

"All right; that's it."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Hermione's outburst. She had been very quiet since the last time anyone had been in the house. He had taken to watching her from behind whatever book he'd managed to randomly select, and she always kept to the same studious ways he remembered from Hogwarts.

"Come on Malfoy. Let's get out of here. Malfoy? Draco, I'm talking to YOU, you know."

His heart skipped a beat as she sat on the hassock in front of him. It didn't hurt that she'd managed to give him one of the first genuine smiles he'd received in a very, very long time.

Hermione sat on the edge of the hassock, peering over the top of the book she was sure Draco had barely even looked at.

"Whatcha reading there, Malfoy?"

"Uh…uh…."

She chuckled, smirking much in the same manner he himself did when he thought someone was uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"You haven't read a single word, have you?"

Hermione knocked the book out of his fingers and extended a hand. Draco shook his head, looking at her and wondering what in the world she was thinking.

"Granger, we were told to stay here. Or have you so quickly forgotten?"

Smiling, she pulled him up by his arm, and not very gently.

"Malfoy, we're not going very far. There's still a yard attached to this old place."

"But…but that's outside!"

"Yes…that's quite a brilliant deduction, Malfoy. But you have obviously forgotten the wards on this place. That would include the wards on the yard. No one can see us if we go out there. Oh, come on already!"

With the next tug of his arm, his resolve to stay put in that dank, dusty room full of books went out the doorway faster than Hermione could physically move him. He was temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight that met his eyes as they stepped out the back door.

"Merlin, Malfoy…. I never fathomed it possible that you could be paler than you were back in school, but…. Your skin is practically translucent."

He flinched as he felt the warmth of her fingers reaching up to touch the side of his face. It matched the creeping warmth in his blood as he fought to stay in one place, watching her studious expression. After a second, she blinked, and then drew her hand away.

"Um…sorry. Shouldn't have done that."

Swallowing hard, he nodded, moving back a few steps to put some space in between them. Hermione closed her eyes and held her arms out to her sides, spinning slowly in place. To him, she was fascinating; the cool breeze fanning her hair out in waves before she dropped to the ground, giggling and exhausted.

"Ahem…."

The peace and happiness he felt watching her was quickly forgotten. The boyfriend had arrived, his presence interrupting Draco's quiet moments.

"Granger, you have a visitor. If you'll excuse me…."

The tone in Malfoy's voice had a hard edge to it. One that did not go unnoticed by Hermione as she sat up and watched him re-enter the house with hooded eyes. _Curious._ She had found many things about Draco Malfoy curious as of late. Hermione quickly smiled as George walked up to her, offering one of his large and steady hands to pull her up of the moist grass.

"Hello, love."

She gave him a quick peck before jumping and pulling him back inside the house behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Hello All!!! Hope that you enjoy this chapter. We're picking up the pace a little bit, you know. Take care, have a good holiday (for those that celebrate it), and review when you're done...please. Toodles!!!_**

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"Thank Merlin you're all right. Get up Malfoy! We've got to go!"

Still groggy, Draco rubbed at his eyes and looked toward the window in his tiny room. The sun had not yet come over the horizon, and he could not fathom while he was being woken in the middle of the night.

A loud bang and the violent shaking of the room threw Hermione on top of him. It was enough to bring him fully awake and to a sitting position.

"Bloody Hell, Granger! What in the name of Merlin is going on!?! Are we under attack?"

She bit her lip and nodded, pulling out her wand as she signaled him to be deathly quiet. They both listened as footsteps passed by his "closet" door. Hermione only hoped her glamour charm would fool whoever bothered to open the door. They watched anxiously as the door handle began to jiggle, and then finally the door opened.

Malfoy closed his eyes, waiting for a curse that did not come. He peeked from behind hooded eyes as the Death Eater who had opened the door sighed and looked around, closing the door in resignation.

"Nothing but a broom closet. You two, come with me."

Hermione let out a long-held breath and turned to Draco.

"Here, take this. It might not be yours, but it damned well should help."

She gave him one of the things he knew she cherished the most: her wand.

"But…Granger, I can't take this. What are you supposed to defend yourself with?"

"I don't need it."

Cocking his head to one side, he looked at her in wonder. After he had stared at her for what seemed a good five minutes, she finally responded in exasperation.

"What, do you think all that time spent in the library was for naught? I don't need it, Malfoy, because I've gotten pretty fair at wandless magic. Okay?"

He nodded, swallowing hard as he thought about what was going on.

"Wait a second, Granger…. How did they get in here? What about all those wards you were talking about?

Her eyes fell. She really didn't know how they had gotten into Grimmauld Place. Only that she and Malfoy were alone here until someone arrived. She'd sent Hedwig the moment she knew something was amiss. Hermione only hoped that the faithful owl had made it past the Death Eaters that were now swarming the former Black residence to begin with.

"I don't know, Malfoy. But for now, we're stuck here. We have to wait for a distraction, and then we've got to leave. Those are my orders; to get you as far away from here as possible."

"Your orders, from whom?"

"Harry."

_Potter. Potter told her to spirit me away?_ Draco quietly chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating why the great Harry Potter wouldn't wish to see him dead. It was obviously the first thing the Death Eaters would do if they saw him.

"Hey, Malfoy…look!"

Hermione was pointing to the window. Red sparks appeared in the sky above the neighborhood, a sure sign that help was on its way. She reached down and took her hand in his, gripping it as if for dear life.

"Follow me."

He did, blind as to where they were going or where they would end up. Just as they ran out the back door of the old house, several aurors were making their way inside, to face the trouble within.

"Hold on, Malfoy."

A familiar tug at the pit of his stomach, and he knew they were apparating. _But to where? _His question was soon answered as his head slammed against the base of a very large oak tree. They were in the middle of a very dark forest, much like the Forbidden Forest. _Maybe…_.

"Oh tell me you did not bring me to the bloody Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night, Granger! Come on, you have got to be kidding me!!"

"Shhhhh!"

Hermione ducked as she felt a curse whizzing in their direction. But a counter curse came from over her shoulder, aimed right back at the lingering Death Eater who had tried to hurt them.

"Hermione, get out of here!"

"George?"

Fred stuck his head out from behind one tree, and George another. They were both fighting off curses left and right as sparks flew through the air between them and their intended targets.

"Hermione, for Merlin's sake, get the hell out of here! Now!"

A tugging at her sleeve brought her back down to where Malfoy was still propped up against the tree's trunk.

"Granger, maybe we should do what he says. We're basically sitting ducks from what I can fathom out here."

"No, I will not leave George to get hurt out here, or worse, die. I cannot do that. I won't. I…."

Her voice was muffled by the warm sensation of his lips upon hers. She wasn't thinking of the fact that George was standing less than a hundred feet away. She wasn't thinking that this was Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater. Her mind had gone completely blank for a few seconds, and was only focused on the tingling feeling she had from the skin of her lips to the tips of her toes.

"Malfoy! Bloody hell you wanker!!!"

It was the low, deep growl in George's voice that brought her back to her senses. She put two hands on Draco's chest and shoved, sending herself sprawling backwards in the process. With her left arm, she furiously wiped her lips dry, chest heaving up and down with the rapid breaths her lungs were forcing her to take.

"Hermione, duck!"

Another curse, aimed at her, barely missed the top of her head as she lay flat against the forest floor.

"That's it! Malfoy, let's go! George….!"

Her boyfriend nodded, his lips set in a thin, grim line as he shouted counter curse after counter curse. She grabbed Draco by the arm and yanked him back behind the tree; looking around to see what part of the forest they had apparated to.

"Good. How fast can you run, Malfoy? Are you up to it?"

He looked in the direction she was pointing. Back to where all of this had begun; Hogwarts School. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Run for it!!!"


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione and Malfoy ran as if there was no tomorrow. Their survival depended on right now; on how fast their legs could move. Draco's lungs were on fire, and Hermione kept having to catch up, stopping every once in a while to fend off a spell aimed in their direction.

Relief washed over Draco as the loud thud signaled that the heavy doors of the Great Hall were tightly closed behind them. He turned to smile at Hermione, and was greeted by a gold charger to the side of his head.

"Ow Granger! What the bloody hell was that for?"

He rubbed his head furiously while awaiting her response. But Hermione was huffing and puffing, more from her stewed anger than from the sprint that took them from the forest to the confines of the ancient castle walls.

"What the bloody hell was that for, Malfoy? What the bloody hell gave you the right to kiss me, huh? Why the hell did you do that? And in front of George!!! You'll be lucky if he doesn't hex you into oblivion for that stunt you pulled!"

"Don't get your knickers all in a bunch, Granger. I kissed you because you wouldn't shut your bloody trap. And because it would be completely unbecoming of me to have HIT you. All right?"

She blinked. That managed to let the air out of her balloon. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she pondered his response. _Yes, he's probably correct. Well, no matter_.

"Fine. I'll accept that as your apology, then."

The look on Malfoy's face was priceless. She was standing there, looking all high and mighty with her arms crossed. He was still holding the side of his head; mouth now dropped open at her incredulity.

"My apology, Granger?!? YOU'RE the one who hit ME in the head just now! THAT warrants an apology!"

"Oh, all right. Stop whining about it. Here, let me see."

Inwardly, Hermione was laughing as Malfoy reluctantly dropped his hand to let her see what damage she had done. She used her fingers to gently probe the skin on his scalp, reaching a spot that was fast becoming a large knot.

"I'm sorry Malfoy. I was angry and confused and I flew off the handle."

He looked at her skeptically, one eyebrow cocked as a smirk began to appear at the corners of his mouth. _Granger, apologizing to him?_ This was priceless. Hermione caught sight of that smirk, and returned one hand to her hip, gesticulating with the other.

"Don't you even dare think of milking it any further than you already have, Malfoy. We've got work to do. Come on."

It was easy to remember his old ways when he was around others, but he just couldn't bring himself to be mean or rude or otherwise socially unacceptable to Hermione Granger. He'd already put her through enough in their previous years around each other to last a lifetime. As he looked ahead of them he saw where she was leading them.

"Oi, Granger, why the bloody hell am I standing in front of this portrait?"

Hermione sighed grandly, tickling a pear to get the portrait to open. She sniffed at the familiar smells of the kitchen. Even without the entire staff of house elves in attendance, there were still some there to cook for them.

"Hello Dobby."

The funny-looking creature held out a small cloth covered bag to her, which she quickly took into her slender hand, nodding as she did so. _Amazing how he always knows what I need before I ask_. Hermione turned, handing it to Malfoy.

"Here, Malfoy. Put this against the side of your head. It should keep it from swelling any more than your ego has already accomplished."

Draco waited until she turned her back to him, and stuck his tongue out in a rather childish gesture. He mumbled under his breath, hoping she didn't hear him.

"Ego…I don't think I'm the one with the biggest head in this room. And for a minute there I thought she was being nice to me."

Hearing him mumble, but not quite catching the words, she turned swiftly back to him, eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Draco began to make a low moaning noise.

"What was that, Malfoy? Oh, quiet already. You're acting like an spoiled child."

Hermione walked over to the small wooden table in the middle of the room, and lowered herself to the bench beside it. She placed her arms on the table, crossed in front of her, and put her head upon them in turn.

Draco took pity on her then. She looked tired and frail. There was no sign of the typical Granger fire and feistiness he was used to seeing. Walking up to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"It will be fine, Granger. You'll see."

That did it. She raised her head up, eyes filled with anger and light.

"Fine, Malfoy? Why in Merlin's name would anything be fine? My friends…OUR friends…are out there fighting and dying for all we know!"

A sad look passed across his features then, and he managed to speak in a very low, hushed tone. With each word it quickly became a whisper.

"The only friend I've got right now is you, Granger. And it will be fine…because it has to be."

* * *

_**There you go. Hope that you all liked it. And I would like to say sorry for the sporadic updates, but it's quickly coming up the end of the year - with lots to work on, here and at home - and I'll do my best...but no promises. Review if you please... Toodles.**_

_**- M.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Here's a tidbit for you right before the holidays. Hope that you have a good one, whatever your race, creed or religion. Happy wishes to all, and to a good night!!!!!_**

_**- M.**_

* * *

****

Malfoy sat down in front of the fire, his hands cupping a steaming mug of hot chocolate that his old house elf had put in front of him. He stared dully into the jumping flames, wondering what would happen next.

Hermione walked over, setting herself down upon the bench beside him. She, too, had a large mug, wincing as she burned her tongue whilst sipping its hot contents.

"You should be careful with that."

She rolled her eyes as he stated the blatantly obvious. Several hours had passed as they had picked over the food Dobby and the other elves gave them. Part of the time, Hermione focused all her thoughts and prayers on one thing: that George would find his way out of the forest in one piece. She didn't think about the others. The grim look he'd had on his features, combined with the fire lit behind his eyes at what Malfoy had done, made her wonder if he would at all.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen burst open; Hermione spilling nearly half the contents of her cup onto the stone floor in front of her. With a wave of her hand, the mess disappeared as if it had never been there.

"Scourgify."

"Hermione!!!...Malfoy."

Harry, completely out of breath, had been the first to come in the room. He was closely followed by Ron and a few other members of the Order.

"Harry, did you see George?"

He shook his head, knowing the twins had been posted near the castle in case of attack.

"They were in the Forest as we came through; he and Fred. They were caught with some Death Eaters."

"Don't worry, 'Mione. We'll go check after first light. There's no way we're going near that forest in the dark."

She could hear the fear in Ron's voice as he shivered while speaking. He was undoubtedly remembering the spiders. Aragog's children surely had increased in size by now. Nodding in her agreement, she moved from the bench to hug Harry and Ron in turn, giving them two of the biggest bear hugs they'd seen in a good while.

"There's got to be something we can do rather than just sit here. You all get yourselves something to eat and drink. Malfoy and I will go to the library and see if there's something we may have missed. Come on Draco."

As he followed her out the door, he nodded to Harry, who did so in return. Ron, on the other hand, shimmied out of the way, so as not to contract anything from the pale, young wizard.

When they were further down the hallway, away from the others, he spoke up quietly.

"Granger, are you all right?"

Hermione released a big sigh that had been building since they'd arrived in the dark, old castle. She could barely remember the days they'd been slightly happy students there.

"Yes, Malfoy. I'm all right. Just a little anxious, you know, about…."

"About Weasley; yes, I know. Hopefully he'll get over the fact that I kissed his beloved and not remember to curse me the next time he sees me."

That brought a small smile to her lips, and she looked at him for the first time in an hour.

"Thanks Malfoy."

He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. They continued in the relative quiet until they reached the old wooden doors of the school library. As they pushed the doors open, the dust piled up on the desks and tomes showed that it hadn't been used in months, if not longer.

"Okay, Draco. To the restricted section we go. At least we won't be accosted by Filch."

"Or that wretched beast, Mrs. Norris."

Hermione giggled as she saw him wriggle his thin, pointed nose at the thought. She pulled volume after volume of Accumulated History of the Dark Arts off of the shelves, placing them in his open arms. The books were piled almost to his chin when she wiped her hands off on her jeans and nodded toward a large desk.

"Let's get to work."


	8. Chapter 9

A feeling of peace washed over her as she walked through the courtyard next to the school. It was still chilly outdoors, leaves bustling about in the breeze. Hermione pulled her sweater in tighter across her chest.

As she turned, she smiled at the sight of Malfoy walking towards her, his typical scour upon his features.

"What's wrong, Malfoy, cat got your proverbial tongue?"

He spoke, but no sound came out of his mouth. She watched as his lips formed the word 'Granger', but no air passed through his vocal chords. Her arms dropped and she moved forward, watching the rising terror in his eyes as he began to claw at his throat.

'Granger. Granger. Granger. Granger.' Still no sound to back it up.

"**Hermione!!"**

She shook her head, opening her eyes as she realized it was all a dream. She rubbed her lids and wiped the forever-present drool from her cheek simultaneously before focusing on who it was that had called her name.

"George?"

Before her stood her boyfriend; tattered clothing and dirty, sweaty countenance, but it was still him. She rose to embrace him, realizing that the typical joy she had always felt around him was gone. Something about that dream had chilled her to the bone.

Suddenly cold, Hermione snuggled into George's chest, trying to wipe the vision from her thoughts, but unable to escape its presence in the corners of her mind.

* * *

Two more nights had passed, and a solemn quiet came over the group. They still had no more news from the outside world, but they were safe in the old castle; for now.

Once again, Hermione Granger found herself in front of a warm fire in the kitchen; clutching another mug of steaming hot chocolate. She was vaguely aware of the other people in the room. Harry and Ron were playing a game of Wizard's Chess, just like when they were in school; of course Ron was beating the Boy Who Lived quite soundly. The twins were sitting at the table, eating plates of food left over from dinner – they had spent all afternoon on patrol, only now catching up with the others. Malfoy….

_Where is Malfoy?_

As the thought caused her to focus more clearly, the heavy wooden door to the kitchen swung open laboriously. In walked the pale young man in question, his head hanging a bit lower than she had seen in some time.

Everyone turned to look at him, tension now being felt in the air at his presence. Hermione frowned, unable to understand why the others couldn't just let it go for a while. She cursed under her breath as she saw George rise from his seat, whisper something to Draco, and then follow the latter out of the room.

"What in Merlin's name…?"

* * *

Outside in the hall, Draco took a few steps away from the kitchen door before stopping and turning to look at the looming redhead before him. He readily recognized the accusing look in the other man's eyes, and lowered his own in response, ready for whatever tongue lashing he was about to receive.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what, Weasley?"

George slowly took in a deep breath, calming himself.

"You know very well what I mean, Malfoy. Why did you kiss her?"

Draco shrugged, focusing on the fading light coming in the window behind George. He took his time answering this one, getting a wee bit of amusement in George's being uncomfortable. Keeping his smile on the inside, he kept his tone level as he answered.

"I kissed Granger because she was being hysterical, Weasley."

"You kissed her because you're in love with her."

"I…WHAT?!? Have you lost your mind?"

George stood calmly, a sad look on his face. He recognized the admiration behind the Draco's pale eyes as he'd said Granger. Try as he might, he couldn't deny the behavior he'd seen from Malfoy in the past two days.

"No, I don't think I have. Maybe you should think about it for a while. Maybe you'll see what I see, what my brothers see. By the end of the week, we'll see what you think."

Draco stood there, mouth hanging open long after George had gone back into the kitchen. Slightly dumbstruck, he found himself speaking aloud.

"I can't be; can I?"

"Can't be what, Draco?"

He gulped, turning to see the one person he really didn't want to at that precise moment: Hermione Granger herself.


	9. Chapter 10

She had zoned out hours ago; the constant flashing of lights passing by having a hypnotic effect on her brain. But the further they traveled the fewer and more far between the lights became, until they were barreling through pitch.

A voice that she had not heard in several days pierced her thoughts:

"I say, Granger…. For the third time I'll ask you; where the bloody hell are we going?"

Hermione shook her head, clearing it of cobwebs. She looked on the other side of the car, sighing as she prepared to answer the young blond man that accompanied her.

"I have no idea, Malfoy. Only Harry knows. Asking me repeatedly will only make your frustration grow. I suggest that you conserve your energy."

Turning her head again, she leaned against the window, feeling the coolness of the glass against her skin. _Frustration._ It seemed to be the norm for her lately. She, herself, had spent the better part of seven days trying to get out of either Draco or George exactly what it was they had been talking about in that hallway. Malfoy hadn't said a word to her since. And all her ginger-haired boyfriend ever did was clam up each time she broached the subject.

_Where__** are**__ we going_? She didn't know, really. They were on a muggle train, heading into the dark pitch of the unknown. Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around her, wondering where the rest of her friends were.

They had split into groups: no need to draw unwanted attention with such a large traveling party. The Weasleys had gone on one train; it being blatantly obvious they were a family with that coloring of theirs.

Harry had gone with someone else. _Which one?_ She did not know. Hermione herself had been paired with Malfoy, since no one else really wanted the job. She sighed heavily, as the only thing she wanted to do at that moment was be closer to George.

And that only made that bloody conversation pop up in her head again.

Around the same time that Malfoy had stopped speaking to her, so had George. It was as if that conversation between the two held some huge secret that neither wanted to get out. Thinking about it made the muscle beneath her right eye twitch; her mind consumed with the myriad possibilities that might have been covered.

She sighed again, closing herself off to the noise around her as she settled into sleep.

* * *

"Hey Mister…. Mister, you got a quarter?"

On his pant leg, tugging furiously was a muggle girl of about five years of age. He absentmindedly pulled a knut from his pocket and put it into her small hand. The girl's father hurriedly shuffled her away, telling her they didn't have quarters in 'Jolly Old England'.

_Tourists._

Other than that, Draco paid them no further attention. He was watching Hermione buy passes for the next leg of their journey. Muttering under his breath, he looked about for the others.

"Blast it, Potter. You couldn't possibly be more vague, could you?"

After scanning the crowd and finding nothing, he settled his gaze upon Granger again. Draco thought himself a grand fool, having become thoroughly besotted with the young woman. And to not have realized it himself until that wanker Weasley twin pointed it out to him.

A slender hand appeared before his eyes; waving.

"Malfoy, hello? I've been calling to you for five minutes. Are you all right?"

He blinked a couple of times to clear his head, gulping at having been caught in his own little world. He only hoped the embarrassment he felt was not appearing on his cheeks as well.

"Yes, sorry. I believe so. So, where to?"

Hermione gestured widely with a wave of her graceful arm.

"To the great beyond, Draco. Now come on."

Once again he allowed himself to be dragged along by his arm, wondering what in the bloody hell she was up to now.


	10. Chapter 11

Cold and dank, and not very bright; but it was safe. In the middle of nowhere, with no one to bother them.

_Great. Just what we need...more alone time._

Draco was honestly surprised that he hadn't said the words aloud, as he looked around the little shack that Granger had led him to. He wondered again if he had been better off in the cave where they'd found him. Perhaps they should have left him there.

"Malfoy, come warm yourself by the fire. You'll need to before we get cracking."

"Get cracking? You must be off your rocker again, Granger. Unlike you, I didn't get a wink in for the seven hours we were trekking about the jolly countryside to take the long way around to get to our nice, cozy little cottage here!!"

Hermione covered her mouth, trying to contain the giggle that was bubbling up. Malfoy had been so good up to this point, she'd wondered what it would take to make his quiet facade crumble.

"A bit cranky there, wouldn't you say, Harry?"

Malfoy blinked, as Potter came into view from the dark shadows of the room. Draco was so tired he hadn't noticed the green-eyed wizard was even there. And now, his childhood enemy was grinning, looking as if he'd captured the golden snitch again.

"Yes, Hermione. I told you not to interrupt Malfoy's beauty sleep, now did I not?"

Hermione and Draco rolled their eyes in unison; the latter groaning lowly.

"Guess what? You two can fly away for all I care. I'm going to lie down, and when I've had a rest, we can discuss the next stage of 'Drive Draco Malfoy Crazy' in a committee."

That was it. Hermione could hold it in no longer. She burst out laughing, holding her midsection as tears streamed down her cheeks. The normally emotionless Harry had a big grin on his face, shaking his head as they watched Draco walk down the hallway in search of a place to sleep.

"Yeah, Hermione. I think he's cranky."

* * *

Several hours later, slightly rested and extremely famished, Malfoy stretched his arms above his head as he went back down said hallway. In search of food, he stopped short of the kitchen, hearing whispers coming from within.

"I don't care if you think he can be trusted. I don't. I never have, and I never will."

"Ronald, I'm telling you...he can be. Draco wouldn't do that. I can feel it in my bones."

"Draco now, is it? What, have you been getting cozy with him, too? First my own brother and now..."

"Ron!"

The sound of a very irritated Weasley twin was accompanied by a large hand slamming the surface of the thick wooden country table.

Ron started sulking, as he mumbled his version of an apology.

"Well, you know... I'm just saying..."

"Save it, Ronald."

Hermione got up from the table and started for the hallway. Draco quickly went in the closest door, which was the lavatory. He grimaced as he realized that was were Granger was heading for, too.

The light went on, and he could feel his face beginning to redden.

"I...um...I can explain..."

Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently. She needed to use the facilities and wasn't going to wait around to have a discussion. She pointed toward the door, waiting for him to exit.

"Malfoy, I have to urinate, and unless you wish to stand here and watch, I would appreciate it if you would get out. We can talk about what I_ know_you overheard in just a minute. Go back to your room...I'll see you in a bit."

He nodded, beginning to leave the small closet-sized room before he turned around, wanting to say something.

"Draco... I trust you."

Hermione closed the door in his face, and he had no choice other than to do what he was told.


	11. Chapter 12

_Yes, it's been a while...but I've had a little inspiration lately, so enjoy yourselves. Toodles! - M._

* * *

Draco stood there for about ten minutes, looking at the cobwebs in the corners of the dank room before his stomach rumbled agonizingly.

"Oh bloody hell."

He had been so eager to get Hermione's approval that he'd forgotten what he'd been heading downstairs for in the first place. Just as he pulled open the door, Hermione fell inward, awkwardly so.

"Oof!"

It was the only sound that came out of either of them as they both froze in place. Hermione's eyes were wide with shock and Draco's were shut tightly enough to cause permanent damage. After a few deep breaths, he opened them.

"Excuse me, Granger, but I really do need to get something to eat before noon. If you don't mind?"

He made a sweeping gesture with one hand while the other was still holding her precariously upright. Hermione made a noise somewhat akin to an offended grunt as she pulled herself away from him, straightening the front of her sweater as she did so.

"Sorry, Malfoy."

She emphasized the last name, as if it might disgust her. Then she sighed, deeply and audibly. Draco could tell that something was troubling her.

_Here it comes._

Hermione cocked her head to one side, examining the young man in front of her. She seemed to be deciding what exactly to say to him, as if there were several responses already keyed up in her mind. In the end, she settled on tabling whatever it was for later.

"Ah, well... Sorry to keep you from your meal. I'll...look for you later on."

With that, she left the room, also leaving Malfoy to puzzle over her latest behavior as he went to find some food.

* * *

Down the hallway, Hermione gulped as she closed her own door behind her, leaning against it as she caught her own breath. She noticed a bead of moisture making its way down the side of her cheek, taking great care to capture it between her fingertips before wiping it completely away.

"Sweating! Now I'm bloody well sweating?"

Exasperated with her own reaction to Malfoy's earlier closeness, she made a great deal of banging about as she searched for a clean towel and a change of lighter clothing. But deep within, she knew it wasn't the sweater that was causing this reaction.

"Bloody Merlin's beard...where the hell are my trousers?"

On cue, a dirty little house elf popped in the room, handing them to her.

"Sorry miss. Freshly pressed?"

Hermione's anger washed away as she looked at the meek creature, its shoulders hunched up as if it thought it were going to catch a beating for being late with her clothing.

"Thank you. Thank you very much."

"Anything else, Miss?"

She shook her head, and the elf left with a 'pop'. Sighing, she went on to the loo, once again, to wash unwanted thoughts from within. But somewhere, in the dark recesses of her brain, was a little voice that whispered,

_"Told you so."_

* * *


	12. Chapter 13

Another chance wasted. Opportunity missed.

_Maybe I should just tell her how I feel?_

"Bloody hell."

Dinner had been an ordeal. Every few seconds, Draco could feel Granger's eyes on him. It had been that way for weeks now, and he knew that Potter felt it, too. The Boy Who Lived shook his head and chuckled grimly after about ten minutes, quietly standing up and excusing himself. Malfoy thought he'd left completely until the clearing of Harry's throat brought the blond's attention up to eye level.

"Malfoy, if you'd meet me in my room when you're finished?"

Draco nodded tensely, not daring to actually speak at that point. A few moments more, his appetite ruined, he mumbled an 'excuse me' and went to the meager kitchen to clear his plate. The cottage was small, and sparse, but he could think of worse places to spend his time. Like a dungeon in Azkaban.

He knocked lightly on the door to Potter's room, waiting for the faint 'come in' before proceeding to push on the door. The room was dimly lit, with a twin bed situated in the middle of one wall, a small desk in the far corner with it's chair near the window. Potter sat there, staring out into the dark night.

"Have a seat, Malfoy."

Nowhere really to go except the end of the bed, Draco sat down as far to the edge as he could and waited for Harry to speak again. It wasn't long before he got his wish.

"How do you feel about Hermione, Malfoy?"

Draco hoped that his mouth wasn't hanging as far down as he thought it might be, and he took the precaution of placing his hand against his lower jaw just to make sure.

"What do you mean, Potter?"

His own voice sounded shaky and unsure. Draco wondered silently if there was something going on here that both he and Hermione had missed. Why were they the only ones at the cottage with Harry? Where were the others? He looked up at Harry expectantly.

"I mean what I say, Draco. How do you feel about Hermione?" Harry's voice came out ragged, with a sigh and an edge to it.

Malfoy swallowed, shrugging. "She's okay, I guess. But why are you asking me this, Potter?"

Harry turned to look at Draco, his face grim, even with the smile that barely touched his lips.

"I have to go away for a while, Malfoy. I need to know that she'll be all right."

Draco's head tilted to one side. Just where was this going?

"Wait a second, Potter. What's going on? Granger has a boyfriend who will take good care of her, just as soon as he arrives. So why do you want me to do the job?"

Harry turned again, looking back out the window. He shivered once, and closed his eyes as it began to rain. A few moments later, lightning crashed outside the cottage, coming quite close, and Harry began to speak again.

"We...the Order...have reason to believe that not all of the Weasleys made it. That's why I have to go. I have to find out for myself."

Draco blanched. He might like Hermione, but he certainly didn't wish for the Weasley family to meet their end. _Well maybe that git Ron, but.... _ His blond head hung downward for a moment, and after taking a deep breath, he admitted out loud what he'd been holding inside for so long.

" I like her, Potter. I like her quite a bit." There. He'd said it. Out in the open like a true man. He only wished it wouldn't backfire in his face. No matter, though, as he still hadn't admitted that he was in love with the girl.

"Good."

Harry nodded firmly, looking at Draco again.

"I will have a talk with her, Malfoy. Be prepared for the waterworks."

* * *

Thank you for your patience, as it has been a long while since I've updated. But the muse has struck me again. So enjoy! Oh, and please write a review if you think I'm headed in the right direction...or not....


	13. Chapter 14

_**Happy, Happy; Joy, Joy. I'm back, and in business. Hope you like this transition paragraph, as it will get us where we need to be headed. Take care all! - M.**_

* * *

For the third day in a row, Draco stood at the foot of the bed, watching. Hermione's skin had taken an ashen appearance to it. She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't drink. Ever she sat, waiting for something…anything…in the way of news from Potter.

"Hermione, love, you've got to eat."

The tray in his hands felt leaden and he finally gave up, placing it upon the desktop across from her. He shivered, a chill in the air that even she had not noticed in her grief. Draco looked for the thermostat, and upon seeing none he used magic to raise the temperature a few degrees.

"Hermione…please," he pleaded. She raised her eyes a fraction, the sadness in them potent, then lowered them again. It was the first movement he'd noticed out of her in days. "May I?"

Not a movement, nor a word. Taking his chances, Malfoy lifted the covers and slid in underneath them, his skin reacting to the coldness surrounding her. If she went on like this much longer, things would not pass well.

*****

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

Harry stood, watching the grim task the police had undertaken. The train the Weasleys had been on was mangled beyond recognition. Two bodies had already been removed from it. Molly Weasley, the matriarch, and one of the twins. He didn't know which. They had yet to locate the bodies of Jenny, Mr. Weasley, Ron, or the other twin. Percy had stayed home to relay messages if need be. He hadn't seen Charlie in ages. Whatever happened here, it reeked of magic, and the muggle police had no idea what they'd gotten into.

Sighing, he went to a nearby hill, taking a seat upon the dew covered grass. The sun was beginning to set; a low fog covering the edges of the field beyond the crash site. He wondered if Malfoy would be okay with handling Hermione, knowing that somewhere inside, he would have to find a way.


	14. Chapter 15

_**I'm updating as many stories as I can tonight. I've got a few extra hours, and a lot of brain power - apparently. Take care, and have fun reading! - M. P.S. Before I forget. Yes, I know the chapter order is off. This is due to an author's note that has since been removed. Toodles!  
**_

* * *

"How is she?" Harry stood at the doorway, watching Malfoy wipe the sweat from Hermione's brow. It had been a week, and the muggle coroner was still trying to match dental records to the remaining corpses. Harry had only relayed to Malfoy that they didn't know if the rest of the bodies belonged to the Weasleys, or if it was some other magical personage. There was still a chance that some of them had been taken.

"Better," Malfoy replied. He sighed as he watched Hermione sleep. Her eyes moved rapidly, indicating that she was dreaming. And by the moaning she was beginning to illicit from her throat, they weren't good dreams at all. "She finally ate something today. I'd like to think it was something I said, Potter, but I have a feeling it's just her being Granger...forever sensible."

Harry nodded, walking over to the window of the room. It was barely daylight outside, and fog still lingered on everything surrounding the cottage. He and Malfoy had managed to place enough wards on the place to go unnoticed, but he really wished they could have added Hermione's expertise to the mix. He turned and crossed the short space between the window and the bed, whispering lowly in Malfoy's ear.

"Come. I need to speak to you for a moment." He saw the indecision in Malfoy's eyes but quashed it. "Look, I need to speak with you. She'll be fine while we're gone."

Draco nodded, slowly and softly rising from the side of Hermione's bed to follow Harry out of the door. He closed it quietly behind him before turning to Harry and speaking in a low tone. "What's going on, Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath. Life was never easy when you were an auror in training. It was worse that he was a member of the Order, and even worse therein that he was the boy-who-lived. "So far they've found Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, and one of the twins. No one knows which, because their dental records and DNA are identical. Hell, the only way I could ever tell the difference between them was a mole that one had and the other didn't." He looked to the closed door, thinking of the inhabitant behind it. "I don't know if we should tell Hermione. The body is burned beyond recognition. The others...they're missing at this point. The Order has no idea where they are - if they're one of those bodies sitting in the muggle morgue, or if they've been taken. We know that they got on the train. Tracking spells aren't working. It's as if they've vanished without a trace."

"Deatheaters?" Malfoy asked. Though he could not remember when in his lifetime he'd seen a Deatheater that could keep another person from being tracked. "What do we do, Potter?"

"We keep trying." It was the only answer he could think of. If it wasn't George who was found in the wreckage, then he was still out there. Did he tell Hermione that George was dead, and let her grieve now? Or did he give her what might end up being false hope? It was a decision he wasn't ready to make. "I'll think about what to tell Hermione for now."

Draco nodded, opening the door as he thought the discussion was over. He walked back over to the bed, not noticing the silent tears that fell from Hermione's eyes. She'd been listening.


	15. Chapter 16

"Get out of my way, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood for your...your...helpfulness!" Hermione was pressed against Draco, shoving him with whatever might she had left. She was frail, and pale, and really needed a vacation and a lot of food, but she was determined to get out of that cottage and find out what had happened to the Weasley family.

"No, Granger. I told you, Potter said to stay here! He'll be back in a few hours and you can have all of your questions answered then." He kept a firm grip on Hermione's shoulders, keeping her just far enough away from him that their bodies weren't touching. All he really wanted to do was take her in his arms and comfort her. But Hermione Granger was angry. An angry witch was not a good enemy to have.

"Just be thankful that I don't have my wand right now, Malfoy. I'm curious, do you like the fact that you have me here, all alone, to yourself?" Her eyes were bright and he knew she didn't mean it that way, but it aggravated him all the same.

"Granger," he groaned, giving up as he picked her up bodily and laid down with her on the bed. She struggled, kicking and screaming with all of her strength. It was a good thing the cottage had a hundred and one wards laid upon it, or the nearest neighbors might have come running. "Granger, calm down, would you? Granger...Hermione!"

As he yelled her name, she seemed to slow down a bit. Gentle sobs came from within her as she let go, releasing all the anger she'd been holding onto. "Malfoy...why? Why? What did they ever do to anyone?" Her eyes pleaded with him to give her an answer, but he had none. The Weasley family had always stood for everything good there was to be found in magic.

He reached out and began to stroke back her hair. "I don't know, Granger. Even I don't understand everything the Deatheaters do. I'm still trying to figure out what they want me for." He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. This was the closest he'd ever been to her without either of them freaking out, or without her rejecting him, or without anyone else sticking their two cents in. "All I can say for now is...I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Malfoy. I know you are." She snuggled into his shoulder, suddenly aware of the proximity of him. Hermione closed her eyes, sniffing in the sweet scent of him. It contrasted with the musty dampness of the cottage air that she'd been breathing in for nearly two weeks.

Malfoy went very still. He was fully aware of what Hermione was doing, and it was the strangest and most arousing movement she could have made. He gently cleared his throat. "Granger...."

Her eyes opened, their brown irises clear and focused. "Yes, Malfoy?" She watched, and waited, and expected him to say more than he did.

"Nothing, Granger. It's nothing." He sighed and kept his arms wrapped around her, wondering what would come up next.


	16. Chapter 17

_Good evening._

_I know that it has been a very long time since I've been able to update. But here I am, once again - for I so loathe leaving things hanging. Read, review, and take care. The Muse is back in business._

_-M._

* * *

The hours passed slowly.

Days became nights, which bled into more days. Then days slowly merged into each other until a fortnight had passed since Potter had left him in the cottage with Granger. Slowly, and with much encouragement, Draco had managed to get her back to some semblance of health.

Somewhere in the middle of day 17, the sun came out from behind the clouds and shone down on the tiny building. He watched as Hermione sat down in a chair by the window and looked out longingly upon the meadow nearby – its grass long grayed by the chilly conditions. It would be winter soon, and the first snowfall would soon blanket everything in white.

"Malfoy, come here, please," she said to him in the faintest of voices. Obligingly, he walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and placed her cold palm upon his warm fingers, sending more than one kind of chill up his arm. Because try as he might, even in the midst of all the uncertainty of what had happened to the Weasley family, to her significant other, he still carried his feelings for her locked inside of his tiny little heart somewhere.

"Yes Granger?" he asked in a light voice, trying not to let said feelings pass along the deep timbre.

"I would like to go outside someday, Malfoy. I know that we need more wards up...maybe if we made a patio, then I would at least FEEL like I was out of doors." Hermione turned and looked at him. She noted how he was trying not to smile. The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly and she managed to stifle a chuckle. All things considered, Malfoy had turned out not to be the worst of companions.

Nodding, she turned back toward the window, watching the clouds try to overtake the sun again. In all this time, they had only received one message from Harry. It did not look good. The biggest obstacle they faced was muggle interference. For try as they might, even wizards had a hard time confounding a muggle when the muggle was stubborn enough of mind. There were four bodies still left unidentified. And they could not determine if the fifth was Fred, or if it was...George.

She'd managed to stifle her anger and sadness. It no longer made her sob hysterically when she thought about it all. If nothing else, those members of the Weasley family were dead long before the fire overtook the train. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. It's what Harry told her. It's what the well-meaning young blond wizard behind her kept telling her anytime the subject came up.

Which brought her to Malfoy. She could not fathom why he was still there with her. For a while she had been nothing but an invalid to deal with. And yet he still was there. She knew that Draco had feelings for her. She could see it when he brushed her hair, unaware that she was watching his reflection before them. She felt it when he held her at night – keeping the everlasting string of nightmares at bay, long enough for her to catch some semblance of sleep. He was patient, and kind, and never pushed her or prodded her or tried to impose his thoughts or feelings upon her. If she didn't know better, he would have been the male version of the Muggle's Mother Teresa.

But she did know better. She wasn't sure when his feelings had changed, from the very obvious dislike that he'd pointed in her direction as a child – which she was by now nearly convinced was a show put on for the benefit of not only the Slytherin population at Hogwarts, but also the overbearing parents that raised him – but she had to admit, somewhere deep down, that it comforted her...this change.

The sun snuck back behind the clouds, and left them in hazy near-darkness again. Sighing, she rose from her chair and looked at him.

"Right now. Time for afternoon tea, is it?"

Draco nodded, looking at her without obvious expression. He smiled lightly when Hermione squeezed his fingers before letting them go. She watched him for a moment, then did the most curious thing.

"Thank you, Draco. For everything," she said quietly, then kissed him on his left cheek before leaving the room.

He stood there, motionless, as his brain processed everything that his heart felt in that moment. Then logic took over, as his mind tried to fathom what had made her do that._ Curious_, he thought, then followed her to the kitchen for some tea.


End file.
